


he says he can't feel his face

by Mothervvoid



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Biting, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Foe Yay, Hate Sex, POV Second Person, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, do not perceive me, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27569062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothervvoid/pseuds/Mothervvoid
Summary: Nabriales gets pegged. That's it.
Relationships: Nabriales/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	he says he can't feel his face

**Author's Note:**

> there was a tragic lack of nabriales smut so i decided to fix that. not my best work tbh but it's been sitting in my drafts for a while and i wanted to post eventually so here we are. title is from tumblr girls by g-eazy.
> 
> ...don't judge me.

Your enemy lays prone beneath you, a sniffling, undone mess of a person. For all of that talk, Nabriales was certainly _pliable_.

You can’t help but smile down at your handiwork, watching with each roll of your hips as he unravels further and further. He becomes near incoherent, his pleas for you turning into nothing more than gasps and strangled words that die in his throat, carrying over into a moan. 

Shorn of the black robes, biting his fingers, laying on his back; you could almost like him. Almost.

Behind his fingers, Nabriales lets out another strangled moan, pushing his hips back in an attempt to drive your strap further into himself. He’s needy too, vying for every bit of your attention.

And he shall have it.

You can’t stop the grin forming on your face as you look down at him. Teasingly, you run your fingers up his right leg, cupping your hand under his knee to casually toss his leg over your shoulder.

“Do you like that?” You purr, reaching down to pluck his mask off of his face. When he reaches for it, weakly, you toss it aside; “Ah-ah, I want to see that pretty face of yours.” 

Without giving the Ascian time to reply, you buck your hips, drawing out another sharp, needy sound from him. Leaning forward on the one leg you have over your shoulder, you start to pick up the pace of your thrusts, watching him with anticipation.

Rather than look at you, or anywhere, the ascian covers his face with his hands.

That won’t do.

Slowing your thrusts, you gently pry his hands away from his face; “Come now, you look so beautiful like this,” You croon, thumb on his lower lip. Nabriales whines in return.

You press your lips against his forehead, leaving behind a faint crimson lipstick mark. Ghost your lips down his cheek, across his jaw. Leaving a trail of kisses on his neck before you find a spot you’d like to mark, a spot you’d like to leave him a little something to remember this, at least for a little while.

You’d like to make a ruin of his neck and shoulders, actually, to cover him in bitemarks and hickies. You didn’t think an ascian could look so beautiful before you had one mewling beneath you.

Nabriales, with his hands prised from his face, grips your shoulders, claws digging into your skin. You hiss, biting down on the skin of his neck. He lets out a breathy gasp, you lick up the side of his neck, tasting iron, your teeth red. 

You wrap your fingers around his cock, stroking in time with your thrusts as your own fluids slick your legs; “Cum for me,” You command.

Nabriales lets out a sob, throwing his head back. You go back to his neck, continuing your ministrations on his cock. You’ll smear your lipstick all over his neck and really mark him as your’s. He’ll be a sobbing, writhing mess beneath you.

He twitches in your grasp, let’s out a grunt. “Good boy,” You croon, dragging your teeth down his neck. 

His legs wrap around your waist, pulling you close. He’s practically a koala, bear-hugging you, begging for you. He can’t even form words, singing wordless praises in your ear. A palimpsest of unsung prayer, only whispered in needy moans. 

Music to your ears. 

He cums, head thrown back, gripping your shoulders so tight the claws on his gloves draw blood. Wells up. Runs down your back. You don’t mind. 

You disentangle yourself from the ascian. The man is limp, trembling on top of his black robes.

Before you go, you press a kiss to his lips; “You look beautiful like that.” 

The needy look he gives you tells you this won't be the last time you two see each other.


End file.
